Reflections
by CCgirlie
Summary: In the Appleseed universe, before the great non-nuclear war, a different type of battle raged. The early life of the man who would one day be called Briareos Hecatonchires. Rated M for strong language, violence, and disturbing situations.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER**: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Shirow Masamune , various publishers and companies including (but not limited) to Dark Horse Comics, Eclipse International, TOHO, and Geneon Entertainment Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

In the shade of a small, wind-gnarled tree in the overgrown lot of an abandon church, a lanky four-year old boy waited, silent. The air was thick around him as he trained his ears listening for his enemy, his small hands clutching his weapon. Finally he heard footsteps on the dusty earth. "Briareos!" a small voice called out, "Briareos, are you out here?" As the light footsteps grew closer he jumped out from behind the tree, blasting his very startled little sister, Demeter, with a stream from his water pistol. "Gotcha!" he shouted with a triumphant laugh. The little girl stood, dripping and still with shock, clutching an equally soaked stuffed rabbit. Her bottom lip began to quiver as the tears swelled in her eyes. "No," Briareos said pleadingly, "No, no, Dee, it's funny see, look." Turning the pistol on himself he sprayed himself in the face. Through tears, the little girl broke out in a peal of laughter. Wiping the water from his eyes, he smiled down at her.

He hadn't honestly meant to upset her; for as long as he could remember he had been her one protector and more of a guardian than their father was. He was the one who made sure she was fed and relatively clean. Looking down at her, he noticed her threadbare cotton dress was soaked and clung to her, the dust beginning to mingle with the water; he'd have to change her before their dad saw her or they would both be in trouble. "Come on, Dee" he said pushing gently back in the direction of their house. As they left the churchyard, he heard the rumbling of many truck motors coming towards them. Grabbing her by the shoulders he pulled her into a nearby bush. "Shhh!" he ordered the little girl, peering out of the branches to watch a line of heavily armed trucks roll by. "KGB," he whispered, repeating the name he'd heard his father call them. "We'd better hurry back home." His father may have had a neutral feeling towards the occupying army, but for some reason, they made Briareos nervous.

Running back home through the narrow cobblestone streets of Santorini, he heard a woman screaming. He couldn't make out all of what she was saying, only something about "...too young..." and "...not my baby..." then the rough growl of a Russian soldier and the hollow sound of a gunshot. "Faster," Briareos urged his sister, hurrying her into the stairwell that led up to their third story apartment.

Their father was passed out on the sofa in the main room of the house, a glass turned over near his limp hand. Quietly, the siblings skirted around the perimeter of the room to the single bedroom behind the kitchen area. Once inside, Briareos changed her out of her, now muddy, dress and cleaned her off, slipping a new dress over her head and buttoning her carefully. He was in the process of redoing her messy pigtails when a banging knock shattered the silence of the apartment.

"Who the hell is it?" his father's drunken voice slurred angrily.

"KGB!" came a thickly accented voice from behind the door. "Open up!"

Briareos rested his ear against the door, listening to the KGB soldier speak in broken Greek. "We come for children," he explained. "You have a son?" Briareos' heart stopped. Frantically he looked around the room. With no window and very little furniture there was nowhere to escape, nowhere to hide. Demeter ran and clung desperately to him, trembling with fear.

Without warning the door flew open and he looked up to see his father and two armed Russian soldiers staring down at he and his sister. The smell of rum and sweat was thick on his father as the older man reached down and grabbed his son by the shoulder. "Whatcha' plannin' ta do with him?" he asked heavily, shaking the boy a bit. Three-year-old Demeter had dissolved into tears on the floor clutching her beloved rabbit.

"Your son will be a proud soldier," the younger Russian said patting the boy fondly. If the whole experience had not been so terrifying, he may have found comfort in the fatherly tone of soldier. "He will be trained and schooled. A proud soldier trained by army."

"Get your stuff," his father ordered.

"What's going to happen to Demeter?" Briareos demanded, his fierce eyes not quite masking his anxiety for his sister's safety. There was no way he wanted to leave the little girl to the merciless whims of their father. He tensed to brace himself as the back of his father's hand slammed hard against the side of his face, but he was knocked to the floor anyway.

"Shut the fuck up and do as you're told!" his father barked.

Wiping the blood off his lip, Briareos looked up, anger brimming in his eyes, but he did what his father ordered. Sobbing, Demeter followed closely to him. "Don't go," she pleaded, "please, Bri, please, don't leave me, Bri, please Bri..."

"I have to," he said darkly, as he stuffed his few cloths into a knapsack from an old dresser. In the living room the Russians were arguing in their native tongue. The children's father stood, swaying, in the doorway with a look of loathing at his two children.

"The girl," said the young Russian, "we could use her in the children's corps as well."

"Well," their father said, looking questioningly between the children and the soldiers, "I don't see how you could possibly take both of my children without some compensation."

More arguments between the Russians, then the same one spoke again. "Double rations," he offered, pity in his eyes as he looked at the trembling little mulatto girl and her older brother.

"Get 'er stuff out of here, too," their father ordered Briareos, then turned and walked back into the living room to flop back lazily on the couch.

Grabbing her clothes hastily, he stuffed them in the bag along with his. Going to the bed, he fished under the mattress on the floor and found a tattered photograph and carefully tucked it in with the rest of their possessions. "That all," the Russian asked.

"That's it," Briareos replied, zipping up the top of the knapsack.

Their father didn't offer them any parting words as they left the apartment for the last time, only looking at them with an unreadable look that may have bordered on regret. It left an eerie feeling in Briareos' gut, knowing that his life was changing forever. Holding firmly onto Demeter's trembling shoulder, he had no idea what this new future would hold for the two of them; he only hoped that the change would be for the better.


	2. Chapter 2

Life in the youth camp was far from easy. On the first day they arrived, much to their horror, they were separated, Briareos to the boys' dorm and Demeter to the girls'. For the most part, the commander told them, they would be trained together, but they would attend different school classes, and they were to sleep apart from each other. That was the first rule they broke.

The first night they were there, Briareos was lying awake in his bed when he heard a small tapping on the window. Several other boys looked up, but Briareos beat them to the window. Below them, standing in a skimpy, state issued, nightgown and clutching her stuffed rabbit, was Demeter. With a bit of difficulty Briareos pushed open the heavy window. "Dee, what are you doing here?" he hissed looking around to make sure no one saw her.

"I'm scared, Bri," she said sadly, "I wanna go in there."

"It's full of boys in here," he said trying to talk sense into her, "go back to the girls' dorm."

"All the other girl's are bigger than me, and I don't know them," she whined looking for excuses.

Groaning and rolling his eyes, Briareos said, "Fine, but you'd better be quiet." Then reaching down he helped her to climb up into the room. In spite of the laughs from the other boys, Briareos laid her down in his bunk and tucked her in.

"Bri," she asked softly, "you got mommy's picture?"

"Yeah," he said, fishing it out of the bag under his bed. The picture was of a young pregnant woman cuddling a year-old baby boy. Her ebony skin was perfectly complimented by her white lace dress, and her smile was both warm and striking. Even though he couldn't remember her, Briareos thought that she must have been the most perfect and loving mother ever to live. Handing the picture to Demeter he whispered the same story he always told her. "See, that's mom and me and you in her belly. She was always happy and she loved to laugh. And she loved us both so much. And she's still watching us even all the way over here."

"Why did she go away?" Demeter asked sleepily.

"God needed another angel, and she was the very best person in the whole world, so he took her." He had never been able to bring himself to tell her the truth. That it was the day she was born that their mother died. When, in fits of drunken rage, their father had blamed her for the loss of his wife, Briareos told her that he was just an idiot. "What would he know about anything?" Bri would always say.

"I wish she was still here," she murmured.

"Me too," he said softly, laying down on the floor next to the bed, using his arm as a pillow and trying to get to sleep.

The morning found a very angry figure standing over the sleeping siblings. "What is this?" a Russian woman screamed loudly.

"Wha?" Briareos said sleepily rubbing his eyes and wondering vaguely where he was. Then looking up at the angry soldiers it dawned on him. Yes, a KGB youth camp, and... and... Demeter wasn't supposed to be there!

"No girls in boys' dorm!" the woman continued to shout. "You, dress fast, out to the grounds immediately," she said pointing down at Briareos, and grabbing Demeter roughly by the arm she dragged the crying little girl out of bed.

Briareos jumped up. "Hey! Let go of her you bitch!" he shouted, grabbing the back of her shirt with a tug.

The woman wheeled around stunned and furious. She shouted something at him in Russian then grabbing him by the arm too, and led them out into the light of early dawn.

"You," she said picking up Briareos by the shoulders and balanced him on a board that stood on a small wooden block. "You stay here. Down in horse stance," she said widening his legs and forcing him to crouch down. "Balance is better that way. You stay here until your mouth is trained not to say nasty things."

Briareos went to step off the platform but it wobbled wildly and he found himself dropping back into horse stance to try and stay upright. "What are you going to do to Demeter?" he demanded.

"Have her scrub the floor girls' dorm, maybe then she remembers where to sleep," the woman said scowling at the little boy. "And, you, no moving until someone tells you to. This is not so bad as it could be."

All that morning he stood on the platform. He almost fell off five times, but he was always able to right himself before falling. The officers watching him were impressed. Even the older recruits would have had problems after a few hours, but this little boy had near-perfect balance and amazing endurance. A little after lunch, the young Russian that had talked to his father the day before walked up to him. "I would not be annoying Akilina anymore if I were you," he said with a chuckle, as he gave Briareos a hand to get down safely.

"She was scaring Dee," Briareos said defensively.

"I am only saying, you will do better to follow rules carefully and obey without argument. Now let us get you something to eat," the soldier said warmly.

In the time that followed Briareos learned that the young soldier was named Vitilli Ryzkhov and that he had a little sister, too. Truly feeling for the siblings, he watched out for them, giving them advice and comfort as he could, but life in camp was still a harsh existance. Even as brutal as their father had been, if they could stay out from under his feet, they could do pretty much as they pleased, but in camp they had rules and regulations to follow. Every minute of the day was accounted for between physical training, schooling, and weapons lessons. The children only got one short break during the day, but even then they were under the watchful eyes of the guards and were not allowed off base. Their lives became fighting and uniforms and lessons in the art of war.

Drills and much of their other training was given not only in Greek, but also Russian and English. Given an order in any of the three languages the children were expected to react with military percission. Briareos found this a rather easy task, picking up the languages with enough ease, that by the end of three months he was able to hold rudimentary conversations with the soldiers in their native language. Demeter, on the other hand, struggled making the correct sounds for the harsh Russian consenants. English was even more difficult for her, with it's strange syntax. Over the course of their first year there, Demeter often was reprimanded for not following orders given in Russian or English, but always Briareos was there to step in for her, when they would allow him taking her place in punishment.

It was not long before the officers started watching Briareos closely. They had plans to turn him into an elite assassin. He was proving to be an excellent marksman and skilled fighter, even for someone as young as he was. If he could be properly trained, he could be turned into one of the Soviet Union's finest military assets. A child could easily sneek in were an adult could not, that coupled with his fighting prowess would make him a deadly weapon for their cause. First though, they would need to reign him in tighter under their control. And they had the perfect tool for that in the form of Demeter.


	3. Chapter 3

Two weeks before he turned ten, Briareos was pulled out of class one morning by Vitilli. For an awkward moment, the two stood in the hallway, silent; Briareos looking slightly curious, Vitilli searching for the best way to put what he was about to say. Finally, he decided that bluntness was the best option. "Briareos, I regret to inform you that this morning your father's body was found in his apartment. We believe it was a suicide," he said this in Greek, his skill at which had improved greatly over the past few years, hoping the child's native tongue may do some to sooth the harshness of the news. He looked down at the boy, whose blank expression had not changed, and was not really surprised by his lack of sorrow at his father's passing. The memory of the drunkard's violence were still strong in his mind.

"Is that all?" Briareos asked in Russian after a few minutes.

"Yes," Vitilli responded, also in Russian, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. May I go back to class?" he asked coolly. Vitilli consented, and he went back to his lessons. His mind, though, was clouded with other thoughts. He was sure he should feel something at the death of the only parent he'd ever truly known, but all feelings escaped him, even relief. His training had gone further than even he had realized.

Later that afternoon, during their break, Briareos and Demeter sat in the shade of a tree, talking about the passing of their father. As she had since they arrived, during their break she clutched her, now very love-worn, stuffed rabbit. The drill commanders and teachers had broken her early of trying to tote it to exercises and class, but they allowed her to keep it during breaks. Only twice had the other children dared to tease her about it though, Briareos was a dangerous person to cross, and upsetting Demeter was definitely crossing Briareos.

In many ways Briareos felt he had failed his sister. Physically she was strong enough, but her mind was weak and her heart too tender for the kind of life they led. He couldn't help but thinking that had he only tried a little harder when she was younger, maybe she would have been more like the other girls her age. At the current time she was wiping tears from her eyes as she rocked slightly.

"Dee," Briareos said softly, "it isn't as though it really matters. We haven't seen him in years."

"But he's our father," Demeter said, another tear dropping from her eyes.

"Not much of one," Briareos pointed out, trying to find some way to sooth her.

"It's still sad," she said with finality, clutching tighter to her rabbit. "Do you think... Do you think he's with mommy?"

Briareos bit his lip to keep from saying what he truly thought. "I suppose," he lied after a moment of looking into her hopeful face.

"That's good, " she said, a small smile dawning on her face. "Maybe he's happy now."

That same afternoon, one of the top ranking officers from KGB's anti-terrorism unit was meeting with the Youth Camp Commander, Andropov. The officer's name was Colonel Artyom Neverov, and he was a fourth generation officer, carrying all the devotion and solemnity that that heredity and position gave him. He was a sharp-eyed man, with little patience for things that threatened the power of the Kremlin, and over the past few months his patience had worn to transparency by a group of rebels, who had started attacking army outposts all across Greece.

Flipping through a stack of files, with a scowl he asked, "How many of these have been trained in assassination?"

"All of them, Sir," Com. Andropov replied proudly. "These are our elite cadets."

"This one," he said tapping a file labeled "Briareos Paieon" which had a current picture of the stern-faced boy attached to the front. "His stats rival those of your senior cadets, but he's only nine years old."

The commander shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Yes, Sir, but we've had our share of problems with him as well. He's insubordinate and rebellious; traits we're still training out of him."

"Hmm," Neverov hummed, contemplating for a minute as he flipped through the other files again. "None of the rest of these comes close to his tactical stats." Tucking Briareos' file under his arm and standing up, he walked over to the window. He searched the grounds until he found Briareos and Demeter sitting under the tree talking. "I suggest you find some better way to rein him in, and _quickly_. Who is that girl he's talking to?"

"Ah, that's his younger sister, I believe her name is Demeter. She will be no use to you, though. We tried to expel her years ago," he repressed a groan remember what a failure that had been.

"So, she's a troublemaker, too?" Neverov asked.

"No, obedience is her only virtue, when she understands the order, that is. No, the camp doctors have diagnosed her with post-traumatic stress disorder. She's incapable of handling the complexities of training, let alone combat," he said, not wanting to admit the next fact. "We sent her home to her father on several occasions, but were unable to retain her brother without her."

Neverov looked at him with a mixture of disgust and intrigue. "You mean to say," he asked coldly, "that a child, _that _child," he pointed to Briareos, "was able to outsmart and escape from an entire company of highly trained KGB soldiers on more than one occasion?"

"As I said before he's insubordinate and rebellious..." Andropov started nervously.

"Oddly, I'm more interested in _his_ skill than _your_ incompetence," the Colonel said his voice full of venom. "It seems to me that this Youth Camp is no longer serving him well. I want you to draw up the papers to have he and his sister transferred to my command."

"Sir, yes, Sir," Andropov said, hoping desperately that Neverov would not report his failings to the higher ups.

"Then we will see what a little motivation can draw out of him," the Colonel said his eyes narrowing as he looked out at the siblings.


	4. Chapter 4

That night, Briareos and Demeter's dorm sergeants had told them of the transfers and given them their orders. They were to pack all personal belongings that night, and in the morning, before first drills, they were to be dressed in full dress uniform, waiting for Colonel Neverov at the front entrance of the camp.

They did as they were ordered, and dawn found them waiting at the gate: Briareos, clutching their old rucksack, full of the few possessions they managed to accumulate over the years; Demeter, clutching her rabbit and staring down at her toes.

"I don't want to go," she said softly after a few moments of silence.

"I'm going, Dee. You don't want to stay here without me, do you?" he asked gently nudging her shoulder.

"I hadn't thought of that," she whispered. "Why do we have to go?"

"It's a promotion," he said flippantly. "Smile, will ya, we're movin' up in the world."

"Hm," was all she replied.

From the main compound Briareos spotted Vitilli walking briskly towards them. The soldier held his hands behind his back and smiled when their eyes met. "Briareos, Demeter, Good morning!" he greeted them warmly in Greek, as he got closer. Although Briareos normally liked speaking to the soldiers in Russian he was glad this time for Vitilli's consideration, as this meant Demeter could easily understand them. "

Hi," Demeter muttered with a shy smile as she tried to scoot behind Briareos.

"Morning, Lieutenant," Briareos said with a faint smile.

Pulling his hands out from behind his back Vitilli revealed two packages. Handing a long thin one to Briareos, and a small square on to Demeter. "Going away gifts," he said with a smile at their startled expressions.

Opening them Briareos found a very handsome, black, analog watch. "Vitilli," he said trying to hand the watch back to him, "it's too much. I can't..."

"Briareos, most likely it'll be years before we see each other again, and we're friends, right? Anyway, ever soldier needs a good watch. Trust me, the army issues are pieces of crap. It's practical," Vitilli said dismissively pushing Briareos' hand back.

"Thanks," Briareos said, a bit awkwardly. He had hadn't had much practice in receiving gifts in the past, and the whole experience seemed rather bizarre to him.

Behind him, Demeter had opened her present, her eyes wide with amazement and joy. She gave a happy, little squeal that caused Briareos to look back. Inside the her box was a tiny, silver and opal ring. "Practical?" he said turning to Vitilli with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't tell me your jealous," Vitilli teased punching the boy lightly in the arm. "For ladies, practical is what makes them happy. Remember that and you'll never go wrong. Demeter loves rainbows and pretty things, now she'll have a rainbow she can always look at." He smiled fondly at the little girl as she gleefully put the ring onto her finger. In spite of the constant berating from his commanders about it, he had never been sorry that he had fought and bargained to keep the siblings together. Lord knew they needed each other.

Colonel Neverov walked up behind them and his three subordinates snapped to attention, saluting stiffly. "At ease, soldiers," he said looking with cool sternness at Vitilli he said, "Dismissed." Vitilli saluted again and turned on his heels, leaving them alone. The Colonel looked from Briareos to Demeter, who was beginning to tremble. "I'm Colonel Neverov, and as of this moment I'm your commanding officer. The two of you are being transferred to the anti-terrorism unit, and are no longer considered cadets. You are now fully conscripted soldiers, do you understand this?" Briareos gave a curt nod and, peeking at him for her cue, Demeter did the same.

The ride from Pyrgos to the seaside village of Vlyhada, where the anti-terror unit was located, was long and uneventful. Throughout it Neverov and Briareos sat across from each other in the army convoy truck, silently judging the other's character. When they got to the base a young woman in civilian clothing met them in front of the main complex. "This is Olivia," the Colonel said in his warmest voice. "Demeter, Olivia will show you to your quarters. Briareos, come with me." Demeter shot Briareos a quick, questioning look, which he answered with a small nod. Neverov caught that, adding it to his mental list of information on his newest assassin.

Colonel Neverov led Briareos to his office and ordered him to sit down in the chair opposite his desk, his voice once again taking up its characteristic coldness. Sitting down across from him Neverov folded his hands in his lap and took a moment before he started. "Paieon, you're an intelligent young man, I'm not going to sugarcoat what I'm about to tell you." "I'd appreciate that," Briareos his own voice matching the Colonel's icy tones.

Neverov nodded. "I understand your situation with your sister. You are for all practical means and purposes her guardian, and have been for years now, I am offering you the chance to really change her life for the better."

"I'm listening," Briareos said, his attention now peaked.

"Your job here will be assassinations. It's bloody, harsh work, but in exchange, we will give your sister as normal a life as possible. She'll no longer have to train, her jobs around camp will be minimal, and Olivia, who you met earlier, will care for her while you are on missions. She will go to the best school in the region, have access to the best doctors, in short, she will have everything her life should have had all along. This of course, is only if you work for us."

"And if I don't?" Briareos asked his eyes narrowing slightly.

"She will be committed to a state institution for the mentally ill, they can be very nasty places to send pretty, young girls. You will be killed. Don't think of running away, either. We have agents all over the world, regardless what corner you two try to hide in; we will find you and destroy you. So you see, essentially you only have one real option. Obedience and loyalty to the Kremlin." Neverov sat back watching as the reality of his situation dawned on the young boy. Check and mate. He had his weapon now; it would only be a matter of time before order would return to the land.

Colonel Neverov had insured that the siblings would be able to share one of the family apartments on the base, rather than have them stay in separate barracks. Briareos had just got back from his first mission. It was the middle of the night, he was covered in blood and exhausted, both mentally and physically, but as he stood in the open doorway to Demeter's room, it all seemed worth it. She was sleeping under ruffly covers, her rabbit tucked under her arm and dreaming peacefully. 'Everything her life should have been,' Briareos thought, a tired smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

That night, showered and lying on the sofa where he always slept, he found himself trembling as his mind wandered over the things he'd just done. Neverov had ordered him to kill not only the commanding officer of the rebellion, but also his wife and two children. He hadn't wanted to do it, but it was them or Demeter, he reminded himself. He blocked out the guilt and suppressed the images that tried to crowd his mind. He wasn't a monster, he was a soldier... a soldier... a soldier, he told himself. But more importantly, he knew, he was Demeter's protector.


	5. Chapter 5

Two years had passed. For Briareos, they were bloody, and with each passing mission, he became more skilled and merciless at his craft. No longer did he lay awake at night with images of his victims crowding his brain. He had become everything that Neverov had hoped him to be: cold, shrewd, and obedient. Several times a month Briareos was called into Neverov's office and handed a folder, containing information on his next mark. He took a few days to review the information and then deployed. He would always return late at night or while Demeter was sure to be in school. He couldn't bear the thought of her knowing what he truly did. As far as she knew, he was a peacemaker, who deployed to combat zones only to protect innocent people. In a way, he thought, it _was_ true. He killed to protect Demeter, and his mind there was no one more innocent than she.

On day in late July, he was standing in Neverov's office. The Colonel had just paid him a rare compliment on his skill during his last mission, which had been in the mainland city of Larisa. He once again had almost single-handedly quelled a rebellion through sheer brutality. "As I always say, 'the best defense against terror is to be more terrifying than you enemy'," Neverov said as he flipped through the pages of Briareos' next folder. Briareos stood stock still at parade rest looking at Neverov, rather than the folder, until his commanding officer handed it to him. "Your next mark," Neverov said, "a traitor to the Kremlin."

Opening up the folder, Briareos' heart sank. On the first page was paper clipped a military service picture of a young soldier, under which was the name "Vitilli Ryzkhov." Without meaning to, Briareos took a sharp breath.

"Is there a problem?" Neverov asked, shifting through some other papers on his desk.

"Sir, no, Sir," Briareos answered, his breathing once again under control. 'This will be no different than any other hit,' he told himself.

"Good. Soldier, dismissed," Neverov said, and Briareos snapped to attention, saluted, about-faced and walked out of the office.

All the way to their apartment he suppressed the urge to overthink his new assignment. When thoughts of mercy and friendship entered his head, he dismissed them with his mantra, 'For Demeter.'

Walking into the apartment, he found Olivia sweeping out the living room and his ten-year-old sister sitting on the windowsill clutching her rabbit and engrossed in a book on the kelp specicies of the Mediterranean. He fought the urge to roll his eyes. He'd bought her loads of novels, but she insisted on reading the most boring non-fiction books imaginable. He was glad she was learning something, but it would have been nice if she'd learn something that was useful, or at least interesting. Especially given her new tendancy to spout off the information she read at odd times. "Did you do your homework?" he asked her after he dismissed Olivia.

"Oh, no, not yet," she said, without looking up from her book. "Rabbit and I are reading about kelp."

"I see that," he said, gently snatching up the book and closing it, "but right now, homework."

Demeter sighed, but climbed down off the windowsill and dug into her booksack for her homework. "This is boring," she said, as she began to struggle through her math homework.

"But necessary," Briareos said sensibly. "Do you need some help?" He hadn't been in school for the last two years, but in his free time, he had worked through textbooks for the grade he should have been in. Partially this was to be able to help Demeter with her work when it came up and partially it was because if he had the opportunity to escape the KGB, he would like to be able to take up some other occupation besides killing people.

She shook her head no. "I think I can figure this out," she said with her brows furrowed. She knew what they said about her, that she was slow and stupid, but she also knew that Briareos always silenced them, defending her. She wanted desperately to affirm his defense; to prove to everyone that she was just as smart as anyone else. That was why she insisted on reading dull books and repeating the facts she found in them. She _would_ make him proud of her. She would.

Briareos nodded. "Well, if you do need help just ask, okay," he said gently. He tucked his folder into the top drawer of his desk and shut the door.

"You have to go again so soon?" Demeter asked catching his movement.

"Yeah, but I'm not leaving for a couple of days still and I'll only be gone for the day most likely," he said casually as he reached into the fridge for an apple. "Don't worry," he added with a smile, "I'll be back for your birthday." She would be turning eleven that weekend, and had been anxiously looking forward to spending the day on the Sea.

"Oh good, so it's nothing bad," she said, relieved. She always worried when he went out, terrorists were such dangerous people.

"No," he said, rubbing the apple clean on his shirt, "nothing bad."

The next day, Demeter got back from school before Briareos got back from the range. When her brother was home, Olivia didn't meet her at the apartment, and she was grateful for that. Olivia was nice enough, even fun at times, but having her around always made Demeter feel as though she were being watched. Before doing anything else she went to her bedroom and met Rabbit, who had waited very dutifully on her bed. He seemed happy to see her again, although he stayed stoic, and she cuddled him close, breathing in the wonderful familiarity of him. Tucking him under her arm, she went to the kitchen to make herself a sandwich. "Make one for Bri, too," Rabbit reminded her. She nodded, that would be a good idea. Peanut butter and honey, with the crust cut off, she decided on, laying it carefully on a plate, fussing a little about its position on the table, then standing back and admiring her handiwork. Perfect.

Sitting down at the table she opened her kelp book again, adjusting Rabbit so he could better see the pages, and sat down to eat her own sandwich. She was in the middle of a chapter on harvesting when a thought crossed her mind. Where _was_ Briareos headed to this time? In the two years they'd been at the anti-terror camp, she'd never once opened his desk drawer or peeked at his assignment folders, but this was different. She had plans and sometimes his missions took _so_ long.

In spite of her guilt at doing so she crept up to the desk drawer, cautiously opening it. Twice she drew back her hand as though the folder were white hot, but finally her nerve resoluted and she snatched it up. Opening it she smiled as she saw Vitilli's face. Vitilli had always been a secret crush of hers, he was both handsome and kind to her. She found herself blushing as she looked from the picture to the opal ring he'd given her. If Briareos would be working with Vitilli, maybe he'd even let her go along with them. She would love a chance to see him again. She gave a happy sigh as she continued to flip through the pages, trying to discover what kind of work Bri and Vitilli would be doing.

Briareos hadn't meant to stay at the range that long, but had become distracted in a competiton between himself and one of the other assassins. It was all good natured, two killers trying to best the other's skill, and, having won against his older opponant, when he got home late that afternoon he was in a fine mood. Walking in the door to their apartment he almost knocked Demeter over. She had been waiting right in front of the door for him for over an hour. Her hands, white-knuckled, holding the file behind her back, and her whole body shaking with rage.

Briareos stood for a moment in stunned silence. In all her years, Briareos had never seen her this angry. Was she mad that he hadn't been there when she got home from school? She had always given him the impression that she enjoyed being left on her own now and then.

"What?" he asked after several minutes passed in silence.

"You!" she said disgust and anger heavy on her voice. "You're a murderer!" She took the file out from behind her back and threw it at him, the papers flying about him with a sound like fluttering wings.

His heart stopped, this was the moment he'd so long feared. His eyes barely meet hers as he stammered, "No…no Dee…I'm…I'm just a soldier." Why hadn't he locked the drawer? He always locked the drawer.

"DON'T LIE TO ME!" she shrieked. "YOU'RE A MURDERER AND YOU'RE PLANNING TO KILL VITILLI!"

He reached out to grab her arms, to hold her still, to force her to see things clearly. But she wrangled free and punched him hard in the jaw. Briareos reeled back, not so much from the physical pain, but from a sharp ache that tore at his very soul. It was like all the images, all the pleading voices, all the guilt so long repressed had flooded back onto him with that one blow.

"I HATE YOU!" she continued, tears flowing from her eyes as she stood waiting, her posture daring him to approach, promising that she would strike again. "YOU'RE WORSE THAT DADDY! YOU'RE THE WORST PERSON TO EVER LIVE!"

And saying that she pushed past him and opened the door with every intention of running outside. Briareos was faster though, he grabbed her wrist and refused this time to let go, even as she punched and clawed at him.

"Let me go! Let me go, you bastard! You goddamn, fucking, faggot, bastard, piece of shit!" she growled, using every obscenity she could think of. Her whole being hated him, and hated herself for having thought he was any different than all the other cruel people in the world. Well, if the world was cruel, she would match it's cruelty.

She tugged and pulled against his grip, fighting her way out into the breezeway. Having heard the commotion, a crowd of people had gathered watching the siblings struggle. "Dee, calm down, Dee," Briareos pleaded with her. "They're gonna take you away, Dee, please, please, shhhhh! Please, Dee, hush!" His aching heart was threatening to burst in his chest from fear that Neverov would make good on his long-standing threat to send the little girl to a state institution. "Demeter, they're going to think you're crazy! Please, Dee, they're gonna take you away! Please, please settle down! I had to do this… I had to do it for you…to… to keep you safe," his voice was urgent and desperate.

"SHUT UP YOU... YOU MONSTER!" she shouted back at him.

From the crowd Neverov and Olivia emerged. Seeing Olivia, Demeter kicked Briareos hard between his legs, and when he stumbled she broke free of his grip and rushed into the woman's arms. "Shh, shhh child," Olivia cooed in Greek. "What is it?"

"He's… he's going to kill Vitilli," Demeter sobbed burying her face into Olivia's arm. "You can't let him kill Vitilli."

Neverov pulled the boy to his feet and drug him into the apartment, slamming the door behind them. With one hand the Colonel hoisted Briareos up by the neck and slammed him into the wall. "What the fuck was that?" he demanded.

Desperately trying to loosen the Colonel's grip on his throat, Briareos made vain gasp for air. Finally the older man let the boy fall into a heap at his feet. "That mission was classified! Your blunder may very well allow the traitor to escape, if we don't act fast. Get your gear together, you deploy immediately, and this _will_ be fixed tonight!"

"But, sir, Demeter…" Briareos muttered, before he remembered his place.

"Will be confined to the base infirmary until the doctor's can treat the mental damage _you've _inflicted on her," Neverov said, his voice merciless. He gave Briareos a rough kick, "I gave you an order, soldier! Get your gear _now_!"

In spite of his pain, Briareos pulled himself up, trying without success to forget all the things Demeter had said. Why was he cracking now? Just when he needed the most to be strong. In the darkened bedroom he pulled his gear out of their closet, his limbs like concrete as he suited up. Strapping on his holsters, tears began to flood his eyes. 'You're worse than Daddy!' her words echoed in his mind. 'Murderer! Bastard! Monster!' The tears fell freely for the first time since he couldn't remember when.

"ARGH!" he screamed, banging his head against the doorpost of the bedroom. He had to get his head together, had to be strong, had to figure a way out of this. 'PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER!' his mind shouted at him. "For Demeter," he whispered, urging himself to think clearly. "For her, to save her." Taking a deep breath, he wiped his eyes dry, and calming himself as much as he could, he walked back into the living room.

While Briareos had been getting ready, Neverov had been thinking, plotting his next best move. It wasn't good to put too much stress on an assassin before an assignment. Even one who'd fucked up as badly this one had just done. When Briareos re-entered the room, Neverov said, "Briareos, before we go you ought to go talk with Demeter. Apologize, make peace, in this line of work, we never know which mission will be the last one, right?"

Briareos still didn't trust himself to say anything at that point, but he nodded in agreement. In his mind too, plans were forming. Things to make this whole thing right again.

When Briareos arrived at the camp infirmary, Demeter had been sedated slightly and was laying in bed clutching her rabbit. As he walked in she turned her head to face the other wall. That gesture hurt him more than her physical assaults earlier. "Demeter," he whispered sitting on the edge of her bed cautiously. "I know you hate me, and I know you don't want to talk to me right now, but I just came to tell you, I'm going to make things right." No response from her, but he continued anyway. "I'm gonna save Vitilli and I'm gonna save you. You can hate me all you want, but it doesn't change the fact that you're my little sister and I love you. When I get back, I'm going to find some way to get us away from all this. I'm not going to be a monster anymore."

Seeing that she wasn't going to say anything, he got up and walked to the door. His hand was on the knob when she called out softly. "I don't hate you any more, Bri." He smiled but didn't turn around. It was time for him to go. Time for the game to end.


	6. Chapter 6

Neverov stood in the darkness of his office, listening to an intercom feed. "When I get back, I'm going to find some way to get us away from all this. I'm not going to be a monster anymore." Neverov's eyes narrowed. This had gotten out of hand. He made a call, "Trevok, our plans have changed. I want the best men you've got. After Paieon completes his mission, take him out."

"Sir, yes, sir," Trevok answered. He had his orders. They would be carried out.

Briareos boarded the helicopter with the rest of his six-man squad. Trevok, who he'd competed against that afternoon and four others, all highly skilled. In spite of his young age, Briareos was the commander of these five men, who were all many years older than him, and that night, if he, Vitilli, and most importantly, Demeter planned to survive he would most likely have to kill them all. Against his wrist, the watch Vitilli had given him pulsed softly. For two days, it had mocked him, although he'd been too frightened of Demeter's suspicion to take it off. Now though, it stood as a symbol of his freedom. This was his last mission as a KGB assassin. The whole flight there Briareos crammed on the file, although that was really unnecessary. Normally he studied these to learn the layout of his mark's quarters, his routine for the day, but with Vitilli he saw that little had changed in the two years he'd been gone. He flipped through it anyway, to be able to avoid talking with the other team members. His mind was formulating plans, plotting where the team would be situated and the best possible way he and Vitilli could disable all of them. Just before the chopper touched down a mile from his old base camp, Briareos ran over the plan with the other men. Two would guard the door, Trevok at the front door because he would be the most difficult to take out, and thus should be the first, and the others at the rear door, and the three windows. Briareos would go in and "kill" Vitilli.

Having slipped past the night guard, they made their way through the darkest parts of the shadowy camp, on their way to the officers' quarters. Silently, Briareos used the key supplied to enter Vitilli's apartment. He pulled down his night vision goggles before he entered into the darkness, signaling to the man at the front window, to keep his post. Without a sound, Briareos made his way to the open door of the bedroom. It happened fast. Around his right a swift and steady hand held a knife to his throat, on his left hand side he felt the butt of a gun, hard against his ribs. "So they've sent my old friend to kill me," Vitilli whispered, his voice raspy and sad.

"I'm not here to kill you, Vitilli," Briareos whispered back, plotting ahead what to do if Vitilli didn't believe him.

"Which is why you came with a six-man squad," Vitilli hissed. "If you don't kill me, I will kill you."

Vitilli didn't even have time to realize how much faster, and more deadly, Briareos had become over the last years. With only three fluid motions, Briareos had loosed himself from Vitilli's arms, unscathed, and drawn his own weapon. A split second later, Briareos was going to disarm Vitilli of his Beretta. Vitilli made a fast move to shoot, Briareos instinctively ducked to the side to dodge the bullet and simultaneously grabbed the underneath of gun's barrel and slamming in across Vitilli's left temple. The force of the blow exploded most of the capillaries in Vitilli's eye, shattering the orbital socket of his skull; the rough edges of the scope tearing a deep gash of flesh away, but surprisingly Vitilli did not lose consciousness. Instead he slammed into a nearby wall, clutching his what was left of his bleeding eye and growling the Russian equivalant of, "Fucking, son of a bitch," under his breath.

The doors burst open before Briareos could explain anything. Without a word, Briareos opened fire on his own men, tossing Vitilli back the bloody Beretta. He hadn't meant to half blind Vitilli, but then again, he'd had no intention of being shot himself and he had tried to reason with the man. The two of them made fast work of the rest of the six-man squad, which had gone into the apartment with plans to kill their young leader. Gunfire made flashing strobes in the darkened apartment. In the end, five men lay at Briareos and Vitilli's feet.

Briareos crouched down, pulling the vest and gear off of Trevok, who was roughly his friend's size. "Vitilli," Briareos said turning to the older man, "I saved you, now I need your help to save Demeter. Are you really a traitor?"

Vitilli had been busy using gauze from one of the other dead troops medical packs, wrapping up his bloody eye. But he froze, genuinely concerned and asked, "What's the matter with Demeter?"

"Neverov's threatened to send her to a state institution if I cross him, and I'd be willing to bet this counts as crossing him." Throwing him Trevok's vest and gear he added, "Put that on and let's move out, I want to spring her tonight, before he gets a chance to make his move. Answer me honestly, though, are you a traitor?"

As they walked out the bedroom, Vitilli grabbed an already packed bag. Briareos figured with his lifestyle, the Russian had to be ready to run at a moment's notice. "Yes, in a sense. I'm a spy for the U.S. side of the U.S. -Soviet Alliance. I have been longer than you've known me. But, you've seen the way the KGB operates..."

"I'm not accusing you of anything," Briareos interrupted him. "I need you to get us out of the country. But now," he said, glancing through the curtains, "we need a way to get back to the helicopter without getting killed."

"Yes," Vitilli said looking out the other window. "I see the night guard has been alerted, we have to move fast. How many on your side?"

"I count four," Briareos said, looking through the night vision lenses to see guards positioning themselves behind trees and in shadows, their weapons trained on the apartment.

Vitilli, who'd been wearing his night vision goggles this whole time, replied, "Only three on this side. I say a good distraction in the front yard, then we break out the back." With a small grin he tossed Briareos a grenade. Leaning a bit out of the doorway, Briareos threw open the door, pulled the pin, and lobbed the weapon in the vicinity of two of the guards. Shooting through the open doorway, as the grenade exploded, he ran backwards to the back door.

It was a long hard fight to get off base, running through the woods out to the helicopter. "I hope you know how to fly!" Vitilli shouted above the din of the blades as they started to take off and he manned the turret gun.

"I know enough," Briareos shouted back, then tossed Vitilli a headset. Neverov had made sure that all his assassins had at least a basic knowledge of how to get away. This was in the very real chance that they would be the only member of their team to make it back to base camp. As much as Briareos hated the man, he had to thank him for that. The chopper was the fastest way to get back to Demeter, and it would have killed him to know that the option had eluded him because of ignorance.

"So," Vitilli said, aided with the headset he didn't have to yell now, "what's your plan?"

"Nothing elaborate. Sneak back on base, break in the hospital, sneak Demeter out, then get the hell out of there as far and fast as we can. I take it you have contacts?" He kept the chopper going as fast as it could, headed northwest. "Hey, Vitilli, are we being tailed?"

"No," he replied. "That's odd too. Something's not right here; we ought to be being pursued right now. You'd better be pushing the engine a bit more."

"I can't, this is all she'll go," Briareos answered. His heart began to have that sinking feeling again. He knew that the camp hadn't been alerted to Vitilli's impending death, it would have increased the variables too much, so there was little chance that the camp had sent word of his treachery to Neverov. It was still odd though, unnatural that the camp hadn't pursued them.

"By the way," the Russian continued, glancing briefly over to his young friend, "My name isn't really Vitilli, it's Verund."

Turning briefly, Briareos gave a little chuckle. "That's not much of an improvement," he said, shaking his head. Turning back, he immediately became serious again. This was a mission, maybe his last, and he would do this right. Half of his plan was complete. The last leg, the most crucial part, was yet to come.


	7. Chapter 7

They made it to the base without any more discussion. They both knew what they had to do; there was no need to over think their plans. That was a sure way to fail.

There was no one on the helipad when they arrived. The night guards were elsewhere around the parameter. The morgue was next to the helipad, and it was custom that the surviving team members to bring their dead teammates in themselves. This time, however, Briareos hadn't brought in his dead teammates. He had planned on explaining that they had run into too many hostiles to retrieve the bodies, but he was glad he didn't have to explain anything. It increased the variables for failure too much.

Looking around, Verund gave a curt nod, and he and Briareos made their way, through the base. Briareos signaled to him the way to the infirmary, whispering, "We'll have to get in through the back entrance." He couldn't risk Neverov catching wind of his plan before it was absolutely necessary.

The back entry was barely lit, and crowded with empty laundry and medical carts. It was usually just a service entrance, with heavy double doors, that could be opened to haul in larger medical equipment and supplies. It led to a large storage room, which led into the infirmary. At the keypad, Briareos typed in the access code. By all right, he should have never known the code, but he had made it a point early in his time on base to learn how to get into all of the restricted areas with ease.

Demeter's room was near this back entrance, only three rooms in, and Briareos' plan was simply to pick her up and run her out as quickly as possible. He would give her his bulletproof vest and run her out to the parking lot, where they would take Trevok's car to seaside, and from there hop a boat going somewhere, anywhere, else. It wasn't a great plan, but it was the best he could do. After they got away, he'd figure something more elaborate out.

There was little light in Demeter's room as they walked in. At the head of the bed, over the sleeping girl, though, stood a figure that Briareos didn't need to completely make out to recognize. Neverov was an imposing man, not necessarily in stature but in the way he held himself. The Colonel pulled a nearby chain and a dim light over the bed came on. "Briareos… and Lieutenant Ryzkhov," he said drily. "Why am I not surprised by this trechery?"

"Get away from Demeter!" Briareos growled. This was the first time he'd dared to give an order to his commanding officer.

"Now, now, Soldier, you forget your place. I have just been telling your little sister the story of the Bubble Children. Do you know that story, Briareos?" his voice had a mocking benevolence to it that made Briareos' skin crawl.

"I swear to God, if you've hurt her…" Briareos said, pulling his PSS from his thigh holster, and aiming it between Neverov's eyes. There was the sound of opening doors and footsteps, and soon Briareos and Verund found themselves in the sights of six KGB soldiers. Verund had pulled his weapon too, by this time, and was covering Briareos from the back, his Beretta moving smoothly from target to target, almost daring one to take a shot.

Neverov continued undaunted by the appearance of his troops. "Once upon a time, there were two children, a boy and a girl. They lived at the bottom of the ocean…"

"Demeter!" Briareos shouted. "Demeter! Wake up!" She didn't stir.

"…in a bubble. One day the little girl said to the boy, 'I don't like this bubble anymore'…"

"Demeter!"

"…the boy replied, 'I'll set us free'…."

"Wake up, Demeter!"

"… and he popped the bubble…"

"Damn it, Dee, wake up!" Briareos' voice cracked as he pleaded.

"… and the water rushed in and killed them both." Neverov held up a pill bottle, shaking it lightly. "Cyanide. It's not quite water, but it does the trick."

A split-second later the room lit up with gunfire as the soldiers opened fire on Briareos and Verund. Both men ducked and rolled, Verund to the side, returning fire; Briareos forward, coming back up right in front of Neverov. Before his commander could aim the pistol in his other hand, Briareos aimed under Neverov chin and fire a bullet that splattered the Colonel's brains across the clean, white wall and ceiling behind him.

A split-second later there was a sudden and searing pain in Briareos' left side, but he ignored it, reeling around on his knee, he shot twice and two bodies near the closet fell. Near the entrance to the room, Verund plunged his field knife into the jugular of one of the soldiers, coughing on his own blood as he did. Briareos vaguely noted that his friend had been shot at least twice. In addition to the blood loss from the wound to his eye; he was most likely near critical condition now. Normally, this would matter a lot to Briareos, but now it seemed trivial. Bending down, he touched Demeter's face gently; it was cold. Panicking, he shook her shoulder. "Dee!" he growled, tears filling his eyes. "Damn it, Dee, don't do this to me. Wake up! You gotta wake up!"

Verund put a firm hand on the boy's shoulder. "She's gone, Briareos," he said softly. "We have to get out of here."

"_Shut the fuck up_!" Briareos shouted back at him. Turning back to Demeter, he shook her again. "Wake up, Dee! See I brought Vitilli! I promised you I'd save him."

"Someone will have heard us," Verund urged him. "We'll take her with us, but you need to _focus_! We have to get out of here!" He knew that Briareos was in shock, and he wished he could pause time to let the boy grieve, but that wasn't practical here. If they were going to live to see morning they had to be as clearheaded as possible. Already, his own blood loss was affecting his movements and vision, and he saw that Briareos had a wound to the abdomen, just below his bulletproof vest.

Verund lifted Demeter's delicate body and put her on his left shoulder, holding his Beretta in the other hand. "What's the fastest way off base?" he asked hurriedly.

"_Be careful with her_!" Briareos snapped, his mind still refusing to accept that she was gone. He picked up her rabbit that was still lying on the bed and tucked it into his pack. Demeter never went anywhere without her rabbit.

"I'm being careful," Verund said gently. "But we have to leave, _now_. So I need you to take us off base, and _quickly_."

Briareos bit his bottom lip, but nodded. Grabbing some ammo and weapons off the dead soldiers, he pulled out his PSS's twin. With a final look of disgust at Neverov's body, he said, "Fastest way is out that back entrance, across the range, and down to the parking lot. You have a set of keys in the top left pocket of that vest, they're for the car we're gonna use."

Verund nodded. From a distance they heard the sound of heavy footsteps. Just as they made it to the door for a group of soldiers rounded the corner of the hall and opened fire on them. Returning fire, they ducked quickly into the service area, Briareos covering the door they just went into, Verund turning quickly to cover the rest of the room. Briareos pushed the bolt to lock the door, knowing it wouldn't buy them much time, but maybe it would be just enough. If he could just get Dee somewhere safe, he knew they could make her better.

Throwing open the door to the blood bank, Verund called out, "Hey, Briareos, what's your blood type?"

"A-, Demeter's too," Briareos responded reloading his weapons. "You got anymore grenades?" He didn't need to see outside to know that they were most likely surrounded.

"One," Verund said, pulling medical supplies off the shelves and tucking them into his backpack along with the bags of blood he'd packed. Pointing to a door on the ceiling he added, "What's the chance their already on the roof?"

"I'd say slim, but it's there," Briareos said. The upper ground would give them a slight tactical advantage, although it would be lost if they couldn't get a way back out of there.

"I say we head up there, thin them out as well as we can then, when their numbers are more manageable, we can drop the grenade down the hatch and clear off the ones that will have made it in by then," Verund said in hushed tones. "You go up first, I can't shoot and carry your sister at the same time."

Briareos went up the ladder, pushing open the door and scanning the rooftop with his gun at the ready. There was no one there though and he climbed out on his belly, keeping low, and turning to help pull Demeter's body up. As Verund crawled out himself, Briareos gently cradled his sister's lifeless body. "It's going to be scary for a little while, Dee," Verund heard him whisper. "But I'm gonna be right here, and nothing bad's going to happen to you."

Verund scowled, unsure what to do. Briareos' sanity had obviously (and understandably) slipped due to the shock of Demeter's death. In a way he glad the realization of this reality hadn't dawned fully on his young friend. For the time being, if he still thought that Demeter was alive, maybe he'd stay focused enough so that Verund could get him to safety. As it was, the spy's heart ached with the thought that the innocent, little girl's life had been sacrificed to save his own.

Crawling to the separate areas of the roof's edge, Verund and Briareos sniped, taking out as many men as they could as quickly as possible. It didn't take long for the soldiers to get their position, but the two renegades had the high ground and the element of surprise, with all the benefits that those things brought.

It hadn't taken long to finish off all the men on the ground. Throwing open the hatch door to find a cluster of soldiers with rifles trained at them, Verund quickly threw the grenade as he, with Demeter on his shoulder, and Briareos rushed to the other side of the roof as the explosion tore off a big chunk of the roof. Panting a little, Briareos gestured to a service ladder at the side of the infirmary. He shot the padlock of the grill that protected the ladder, and they made their descent.

On the way to the car, they ran into a few more soldiers, but it was nothing they couldn't handle. Looking back at the camp in the rearview mirror as they sped off, Briareos' mind played evil tricks on him. He'd just helped to kill most of the soldiers on base. He really was a monster. He shook his head, trying to push this thought from it, but finding it impossible. "Demeter still hasn't woken up, don't you think we ought to take her to a hospital or something?" he asked glancing to his sister in the back seat, as Verund tried his best to keep conscious long enough to get them to a safer location.

Verund sighed. He'd have to do this sooner or later; just as well it was sooner. "Briareos," he said gently, resting his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Demeter's gone. There's nothing they could do for her at a hospital."

"NO!" the boy shouted, tears filling his eyes. "She's not dead, she's… she's just in a coma!"

"You've seen death before," Verund continued softly. "You know the truth, hiding from it won't make it any less real."

"NO! NO! NO!" Briareos screamed, pulling at his head. Trying to fight back the tears, but utterly losing the fight. "She can't…" he sobbed. "She can't be dead… I was… I was supposed to protect her. She… she can't be dead. Today's her birthday… I… I was supposed to take her to the seaside…"

As the pulled into a wooded clearing far off the main road, Verund pulled the Briareos into a one armed hug. Where once a deadly assassin had been, now there sat a little boy who had just lost the only person that had ever meant anything to him. "I'm so sorry," he said. "I wish to God that it had been me instead of her."

Briareos thought bitterly, "It should have been you!" but he didn't say it. Demeter's words still were in his mind, her accusations that he was nothing but a murderer. She hated him for even thinking of killing this man that she had secretly loved all those years. For some reason, despite his deep desire to pin all this on Verund, he couldn't hate the man. Instead he found himself sobbing into his shoulder as time seemed to grind to a halt.

Too soon though, Verund had to pull him back to the reality of their situation. They were now both enemies of the KGB and there was no doubt that soon they would have to leave. "We should bury her," he said softly.

There was no shovel, but they made due with a couple flat rocks, scooping out a shallow grave. She looked like an angel sleeping peacefully in the dusty earth, and it pained Briareos to think of having to cover her with dirt. This would be the last time he would see her outside of his dreams; the thought was sickening. Pulling her rabbit out of the backpack he held it close for a moment. The toy still smelled like her, it's familiarity oddly comforting. "Why don't you keep that?" Verund said as Briareos reluctantly bent down to lay it in Demeter's cold arms.

"Dee never goes anywhere without him," Briareos whispered.

"I think she'd want you to have him," Verund said softly.

Briareos choked back another sob, pulling the rabbit close to himself again. In his head he made a promise to Demeter, "I'll keep Rabbit for a little while, but I'll bring him back to you one day." Taking the picture of their mother out of his pack, he laid in her hands instead. Neither of the children had ever been religious, but Briareos hoped that if there was some life after this one that she had gone onto something much, much better than he could have given her. He smiled to think of Demeter finally in the arms of their beautiful mother.

Then laid rocks over the grave, marking it with a roughly hewn cross that had her name carved into it. They walked back to the car in the early morning light; Briareos tucked the rabbit under his arm as Demeter used to always do. That afternoon they were stowed away aboard a freighter headed for Italy. Briareos had left his last shards of humanity in that shallow grave with his little sister and it would be years before he'd go back there to try and find it again. He and Verund split ways, Verund to go to America, and Briareos to become a rogue assassin, a mercenary killing for whoever bid the highest. With every hit he'd make, a bit of his guilt and pain would be repressed as his psychological training took deeper roots. Everywhere he went, though, on every hit he made, he had the rabbit tucked under his arm like an angel at his side, reminding him of the monster he'd become.

The End

Briareos' PSS: world.guns.ru/handguns/hg24-e.htm


	8. Chapter 8

It was always the same nightmare. He was underwater, the pressure crushing down on him, forcing the air from his lungs. Below him, Demeter was looking up with fear and desperation in her big brown eyes. Regardless how hard he fought against the water, he couldn't reach her. Always, she fell down into the dark abyss and some unseen force pulled him towards the surface. Before he would surface he always woke, gasping for air.

That was the way he woke that morning in mid June, laying sweaty and naked next to a petite redhead in a cheap, un-air-conditioned inn. He scowled down at her bare, sleeping form. He hated it when they were still there in the morning. It made things awkward. Gingerly, he crawled out of the bed and silently pulled his clothes on. She stirred lightly, but continued to sleep. Reaching down in his pocket, he pulled out twenty euros and left it on the nightstand. The least he could do was leave her cab fare.

He grabbed his rucksack as he walked quietly out the room, without so much as a second glace at the sleeping woman. Inside the bag were the possessions that he always carried with him, including Demeter's old stuffed rabbit. Once, while he'd been in Spain, another nameless woman he'd brought back to his room had dared to touch this memento of his sister. It had taken every ounce of his strength not to beat her senseless, another in an ever-lengthening and disturbing list of similarities he found between himself and his father. In fact, he could barely bring himself to look at his reflection anymore. Despite a couple of plastic surgeries to hide his true identity and having his African mother's dark skin, it was his Greek father's features that he saw most when he looked at himself. It only got worse with each passing year, so that now, at twenty, he rarely looked in the mirror.

Downstairs he was paying for the room when the alarm on his watch went off. His watch always reminded him of his friendship with Verund, although most days this reminder was rather vague. Today, however, it was at the forefront of his mind. He had been in Japan when Verund had got in touch with him, saying he had work for him. For Briareos, work meant bloodshed. Not that he minded. There were only two times in his life that he could forget about Demeter's death: one was sex, the other ways while he was while he was killing. Regardless how he drew them out, both were painfully fleeting, and so he tried his best to keep himself occupied with one or the other of them as often as he could, clinging to those brief moments of peace.

Walking out the inn he took a deep breath of salty sea air. It had been eight years since he'd been back to the Greek island of Santorini, and he could have honestly gone another eight easily without much trouble on his part, had it not been that Verund had insisted that they meet there. Walking down the road to the parking lot where his bike was parked, he looked around the village crucially. Not much had changed in eight years. Of course, most of the buildings were over a hundred years old, change was not something they really did, but he found their familiarity haunting.

Climbing onto the silver Ducati, Briareos took off down the road to the café where he was supposed to meet Verund. He had avoided Santorini not so much because of the danger it presented, but because of the horrible memories he knew it would bring back to the surface. He was tired. Tired of this crazy, messed up life he'd been given, he had thought countless times of just turning his gun on himself. In the end though, he could never bring himself to do it. Not because he loved life or because he feared death, but rather because it seemed like too easy an escape for him.

The first time he'd thought of killing himself had been a little less than a month after Demeter's death. He'd been sleeping out on streets of an Italian city, whose name he's long since forgotten. He'd swiped a couple of bottles of booze and found himself so drunk his eyes could barely focus, even on the ground below him, slouched down against a grimy brick wall, his hands held his PSS hard under his chin. His whole body trembled, so badly he wanted to just end it all, but just as with his nightmare, some unseen force halted his trigger finger. When he came to later the next day he stumbled out into the glaring sunlight, he had a new reason in life. He would embrace his only skill and become a hired gun. If he put himself into the middle of danger often enough, maybe, hopefully, someone else would be able to kill him.

At the café they were supposed to meet at, Verund sat, his fingers lazily tapping on the side of his menu, as his good eye looked out the window, watching for his friend and praying that he would show. Across from him a middle-aged man with graying blonde hair and a thick mustache said gruffly, "I sure hope this buddy of yours is worth traveling half way across the damned globe."

"Briareos is the best at what he does," Verund said, for what felt like the hundredth time that trip. "At twelve he was one of the KGB's top assassins."

"And at the same age, he killed his commanding officer and most of the men on his base camp," his companion growled. "That doesn't inspire much confidence on my part.'

"…And I was there right beside him in the bloodbath. Look, Carl, just don't bring up that night with him, okay. Trust me when I say, you'll want this guy for his skills and I personally vouch for his loyalty, but what happened with his CO is a sensitive subject."

"Phtt," Carl sneered, "he's a gun for hire, what the hell is so sensitive about a couple more bodies?"

"I don't know why don't we go ask those men you killed after Jena died," Verund said, knowing well it was a low blow but it was as close to the truth as he was willing to go. If Briareos wanted to reveal the truth of his actions that night that he'd do it in his own time. Glancing out the window again, he saw Briareos pull up on his bike. "He's here," Verund said with a grin as he stood to greet his friend.

Briareos was now almost a head taller than Verund, although the older man had a more solid build than his friend, who despite being well muscled still had a bit of a lanky appearance. "Briareos," Verund said warmly clasping the younger man's arm as they shook hands. "I'd like you to meet Carl Knute," he said gesturing to the other man at the table. "Carl, Briareos Paieon."

"Pleased to meet you, Paieon," Carl said grasping Briareos' offered hand.

"Just Briareos will be fine. I hardly ever go by my last name anymore," he answered, his voice low and even, with an implacable, but thick, accent. Carl nodded.

"Well, I'm gonna cut to the chase," Carl started as Briareos sat across from he and Verund. "I'm the commanding officer of SWAT in Los Angles, California. We need a new member, preferably one who would be able to train our new recruits, and your friend, Verund, here has told me you're the best in the business."

"I'm not a cop," Briareos said looking between the two men.

"It would be a chance at a new life," Verund offered. "In America you could get political asylum, no more running…"

"Have you considered that I like my life _just fine_ as it is," Briareos almost growled back.

"Well, if your not interested, I'd say we're just wasting time here," Carl said, pushing back his seat and adding, "I'll leave you two to catch up." Walking out the restaurant his mood was dark. Just as he'd expected, this whole bloody trip was just one long fucking waste of time. What was he thinking, listening to Verund? That kid back there probably had skills, but in all likelihood those skills didn't come anywhere close to including training men to be law enforcers. Damnit all to hell, he must be going senile.

Back in the café, Verund looked seriously at Briareos. "Look, I'm giving you a way out of this!" he hissed under his breath. "You want to be some no count murderer you're whole life! You think this is what Demeter would have wanted you to become!"

"Don't you dare talk about her like that," Briareos said, his voice still even, but it took on colder tones. "You have no idea what Demeter would have wanted."

"Do you though? You think she'd have wanted you to throw your fucking life away as a gun for hire!" Verund whispered back.

Pushing back his chair roughly, Briareos stood up. "If that's all you've got to say to me, I think I'll take your friend's lead," he said.

"No, wait," Verund said, grabbing Briareos' forearm. "Look, I'm sorry about that. Just think about it. You could retire from all this insanity, try and find some kind of normalcy. We don't leave for until tomorrow afternoon, here take this,' he said pushing a plane ticket into his hand, "if you chance you're mind, meet us at the airport, okay?"

"Whatever," Briareos said turning to leave. Without looking back he raised a hand. "It was good seeing you again," he said half-honestly.

Leaving the café Briareos drove down to the red light district. He detested the idea of paying for it, but it was only eight in the morning and he was in no mood to try and seduce some woman if he could get it easier. In front of a rundown apartment complex a young black woman in a pale blue sundress blew a kiss to him, her eyes seductive. She would do, he thought, parking in front of her apartment. "How much?" he asked nodding to her.

Going up to him and running her fingers through his hair she whispered into his ear, "For you 150 and hour." Even better, she was cheap.

He let her lead him up to her apartment. It was clean, but rather Spartan, and smelled strongly of bleach. Pushing her roughly up against the wall, he kissed her, his mouth savage, running his fingers up under her short sundress to feel her breasts. "You move fast," she said with a small chuckle as he started kissing her neck.

"Shut up!' he growled, his free hand moving down between her legs as his other hand held her firmly against the wall.

The thoughts in his mind were just beginning to fade into blissful nothingness when a cry from the back bedroom broke his tranquility. "Damnit," the woman muttered under her breath; she tried to regain his attention but the wailing grew louder.

"Go check on your kid," Briareos ordered, giving her a rough shove in the direction of the cries. She stumbled forward, looking back over her shoulder sadly, but obeyed.

After a few moments she emerged from the bedroom with a one year old on her hip to grab a bottle from the refrigerator. The light from the kitchen window shone on her hair giving her an otherworldly look as she turned to him with a sad, apologetic smile. "I'll be back in just a minute," she said softly.

"I'll be waiting," he said, trying to make his voice harder than he felt. When she came back into the main room of the apartment, he was gone though, all the money he had on him and a debit card laying on the tabletop with a brief note scribbled on top of it. "Bank of Greece, account number 4598629001, pin # 548229. Make something better for your kid than this life."

He wasn't sure what he was doing as he found himself headed on the road to Vlyhada. He'd just given away a good deal of his money to a complete stranger, a hooker no less. What the hell was he thinking? She'd just looked so much like the picture his mother standing there in the morning sun with her son. It made his stomach lurch as he thought of that, and the fact that woman really wasn't all that old, most likely she was younger than him; about Demeter's age. He shook his head trying to push those thoughts out. What the hell was he doing comparing his innocent sister to some fucking whore?

The sun was already beginning its downward descent when he turned his bike off the main road, headed out into the woods outside of Vlyhada. Climbing off the bike it was as though Demeter's ghost was guiding him. He wasn't even thinking of where his feet were going, but he found himself standing in front of a small grave. Vines had climbed up the cross, covering her name, and weeds had crept up through the rocks. Falling on his knees in front of it, he cupped his face in his hands. "Oh, Dee," he whispered, fighting back tears. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I never meant to leave you alone so long." A cool breeze whistled through the trees, wrapping around his body like an embrace. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, even as the tears rolled down his cheeks. "I saw Vitilli today," he said, using Verund's old alias. "He offered me a job in America. I… I don't know, but I'm thinking of going. I wish you were still here, I think you'd like it there. I mean, I've never been before, but I hear it's really nice. Land of opportunities, right?" he said with a sad chuckle. "I've been all over, Dee… but I've been running, hiding from you and… and just trying to die. Vitilli asked me today what you'd have thought about what I've become." He paused for a moment, as though waiting for an answer, but there was none. "I wouldn't blame you if you _did_ hate me," he whispered. "I can't stand myself much either." Wiping the tears from his cheeks he carefully pulled some of the weeds off her grave. "I saw a lady that reminded me of mom today. If you were alive, I think you two would have been about the same age. That's weird isn't it?" he chuckled again. "I… I don't know what to do, Dee. God, I wish you were still here. When you were here, I always knew what to do."

He talked to her well into the night like that; a broken monologue of thoughts and feelings that had been repressed for eight years. In the early hours of morning he fell asleep there, his head rested on the cool stones of her grave. For the first time in eight years, he wasn't woken by nightmares. Instead it was Verund's watch that woke him the next day.

Pulling her rabbit out of his bag, he laid it carefully on top the grave. "Rabbit's come with me everywhere," he said softly. "But I know what I've got to do now, and I think… I think it will be okay if you have him back now." Leaning down he kissed a stone near the head of her grave. "I'm sorry I have to go again, but this time, I promise, I'm not going to be a monster anymore."

Pulling the plane ticket out his pocket he looked down at it. "I'm going on another mission with Vitilli. I'm gonna really be one of the good guys this time. A cop, can you imagine that? I…I don't want to, but I have to go now, if I'm gonna catch my plane. I'll be back on day, though, once I've done something to make you proud of me. I love you, Dee. I'm not going to forget that again." As he walked back to the bike another cool breeze curled around him, and he knew that she'd heard him.


End file.
